


Gilded

by ThreadSketchier



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, F/M, Gen, The Metamorphosis in spaaaaaaaace, What Have I Done, abandon all hope all ye who enter here, and absurdity galore, angst angst aaaaaaaaangst, buckle up bitches, i'm not sure if that's better or worse, if you're not a Legends EU ho you'll probably have no idea what's going on, no ragrets, too late i'm committed, why am i like this, yes you read that last one right, you have entered the Twilight Zone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-07-23 16:15:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16162415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreadSketchier/pseuds/ThreadSketchier
Summary: Just when you thoughtThe Crystal Starcouldn't get any worse.[Han_Solo]...It's worse.[/Han_Solo]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OK, to provide a _smidge_ more context: this story is only leaping off the superficial beginning of _The Crystal Star_ , just focusing on our favorite meatbag Waru. No Solo kidlets kidnapping plot.
> 
> This is kind of frangipani's fault. Someone's gotta fill in the official October horrorfic, so I invited myself. :D (Y'all are probably going to wish I hadn't stepped up to the plate.)
> 
> Yes, once again I am committing the cardinal sin of commencing posting a WIP, so this most likely won't meet an October 31st deadline. But if it spills over by a month or two, so be it. This flaming trash heap is so wild I can't _not_ finish it. RUN WHILE YOU STILL CAN.

“Kid, you’ve got lousy taste in vacations.”

Sweat trickled down into Han’s eyes as he stooped over in the claustrophobic, densely leaf-lined passage, his back protesting the awkward gait he’d had to adopt.  How in the hells Luke could tolerate this humidity in those stifling robes and cloak of his, he’d never know. Yavin 4 felt downright arid compared to this place.

“I never said this was a vacation,” Luke replied without looking back, his fingers grazing along the foliage aggressively clinging to the airlink walls.

“Yeah, I should know better by now.”

The teasing smile was audible in Luke’s voice.  “So whose fault is it then?”

“Alright, I signed up for this nonsense when I married Leia, but would it kill you to get some smashball tickets next time?”

The verdant tunnel finally opened out onto a starkly contrasting environment that seemed like the barren surface of an airless moon. Only a few dozen meters away the dark rock beneath their boots dropped at a steep slope from the edge of what had to be an impact crater, vast enough to encompass at least a kilometer.  At the center of the crater lay an oddly resplendent patchwork of prefab buildings clad or painted in gold, sitting like a small polished gem against the bleak landscape. The harsh glare of the nearby black hole’s warped accretion disk and the crystallizing white dwarf caught in its inexorable grasp cast unforgiving shadows across the terrain through the habitat dome high above, but glinted brilliantly off the compound’s finish.

“Puttin’ a necklace on the barve, huh?” Han mused.

Luke shot him a long-suffering look made even wearier by the fatigue and discomfort evident in his features.  He’d been trying to maintain a buoyant attitude, but things hadn’t been quite right with him since shortly after they’d arrived.  “Han, I know everything’s a scam to you until proven otherwise – ”

“And sometimes they still are, I just couldn’t figure them out.”

“– But for my sake, would you please hold your insightful observations until after we leave?”

“Sure, Luke,” he agreed entirely too cheerfully, evoking an eye roll.  “But don’t say I didn’t warn you, and we’re gonna unwind back in that carnival dome when we’re done here.”  He never enjoyed seeing Luke’s disappointment and frustration at finding another dead end in his relentless search for anything remotely related to Jedi and the Force, but he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t acknowledge the slight bitterness that arose from all this esoteric tripe consuming his brother-in-law’s life.  All things considered, the Force was still a bigger pain in the ass than it was worth.

A sprawling crowd surrounded the golden complex that tapered to a nearly single-file line as the masses approached its entrance; Han wondered how they all managed to fit in there when no one was exiting.  Perhaps more space had been excavated beneath the rock – all the more reason to suspect trickery hidden underground that could provide the illusions that drew gullible beings to this purported “Great Healer.”  But fine, he’d humor Luke for a little while. Unless the price of admission was outrageously high.

There was no formal access down into the crater, just a handful of trails worn into the rock from countless feet.  As much as he liked to think he was still limber, Han found himself floundering to keep from toppling over face-first and launching himself into an embarrassing roll.  Luke gripped his wrist to support him, and this was something he could manage with that otherworldly Jedi ease, but he seemed surprisingly unsteady on his own legs. When they’d made it past the steepest decline Luke was breathing hard and looking distant.

“You okay, kid?”

Luke closed his eyes, jaw tensing.  “There’s something about this place…I don’t know what, though.  Maybe…the quantum disturbances in this system, being this close to an active black hole, are causing some…resonance in the Force that’s…”

“… _ What? _ ”  He didn’t mean to sound that impatient, he was just worried.

Luke cracked his eyes back open, mouth stretching with mild amusement as he recognized Han’s temper for what it was.  “My head hurts and I don’t feel so great. Satisfied?”

“Yeah.  Stay away from the Maw then.”

“But I’m not sure it’s that.  It’s not like I have experience with this.  It might be…”

Han hooked a thumb at the makeshift temple.  “Whatever this is?”

Concern shaded Luke’s expression.  “I don’t understand why. When the Force heals, its energies don’t convey this kind of disharmony. But this could be a level of power I can’t comprehend yet, and I’m mistaking the signals.”  He sighed and shook his head, wincing. “I just don’t know.”

“I think this qualifies as ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this.’”

“Literally,” Luke chuckled.  “Not to make light. I’ve never felt anything like this before, so I don’t want to dismiss it on my limited perceptions.  If people  _ are _ being healed, this can’t be of the Dark Side.  Evil doesn’t support and nurture life.”

“Well, it kept your old man alive long enough, didn’t it?”

Solemn blue eyes bored into him.  “That was hardly an existence, let alone a life, Han.”

He made a dismissive noise.  “What if it’s temporary? What if all these poor schmucks go home and die a week later?  What if there’s something in the air here making them sick and letting this guy put on a good show of ‘fixing’ them?”

“ _ You _ seem fine,” Luke pointed out.

“Yeah, well.  Then I don’t know either, I guess,” Han grumbled, throwing up his hands.

“So that’s why we’re here.  I’m alright, don’t worry about me.  I’ve felt far worse.” Luke started toward the edge of the crowd, then remarked over his shoulder, “I’ll buy our first round of drinks, okay?”

Pretty soon the idea of drinking began to lose its appeal as Han found himself pressed by the numerous beings all bringing their afflicted and dying loved ones, along with some pathetic solitary souls.  Their lamentations and stench mingled together with the morose atmosphere that left him increasingly infuriated that they were  _ here _ , of all places, seeking health and salvation, when the New Republic had the resources to actually help them, if the government could get its head out of its bureaucratic ass long enough to make the difference it claimed to want to achieve.  Or maybe some of these truly were a lost cause beyond all clinical science, and they were being given false hope. The irony that somebody who had the genuine power to heal was walking among them, right next to him, was thick enough to stop a blaster bolt.  But he would never want to subject Luke to such an overwhelming responsibility; the kid was already enough of a martyr. He could see the pity and compassion brimming in Luke’s eyes as he watched them, and knew that it tore at him.

And the closer they came, the grayer Luke got.  By the time they were near the entrance he was in obvious pain and taking shallow breaths through his mouth, as if fighting the urge to vomit.

“ _ Luke _ .  Let’s get out of here,” Han hissed.  “This isn’t – ”

Ahead of them a female Devaronian spun and snarled, “Don’t speak in the sanctuary unless you are summoned, or give praise to the Great Healer Waru.”

“I’ll talk wherever I want, thank you very much!  And so are  _ you _ , by the way.”

Fingers closed around his wrist again.  “Han,” Luke whispered tightly, “Don’t.”

“You expect me to – ”

His protest died on his lips when he caught sight of the object of the crowd’s supplication.

At first glance he thought it was a haphazard pile of rubbish stacked atop a makeshift altar and decorated in the same gold that covered the outside of the building, until the pile  _ moved _ .  It had no discernible limbs or shape other than its sheer bulk, yet it could shift and stretch itself in almost fluid-like manner.  Polished golden scales, tightly packed and rippling in segments across its skin – shell? surface? – covered the whole of its mass, but as they parted here and there Han could glimpse what seemed like raw flesh beneath, deep red and moist as an exposed wound.  A thick bloody substance oozed from the flesh, running between and over the scales to pool around the altar and drip over its edges, forming long encrusted stalactites. The collective body heat packed into the space only heightened the sickening, metallic odor.

It was quite a mean feat, Han had to conclude, that he’d finally come across something more revolting than Jabba the Hutt.

“That’s your ‘ _ Great Healer? _ ’” he muttered under his breath.   _ He’s great, all right – great at being disgusting.  Who the hell smoked what to come up with this thing? _

A deep, bone-jarring noise filled the temple, the kind that Han could feel in his sternum and on the edges of his teeth, and then there were  _ words in his head somehow _ , a comprehension of whatever that sound was making.

_ Child of the stars, you have come to me at last _ .

The crowd’s reverent hush lowered to complete silence as everyone wondered what or who the creature was referring to.  Beside him Luke went utterly still, rapt confusion widening his eyes.

Slowly, every head in sight turned toward them.  Toward  _ Luke _ .

Another rumble.   _ Bring him before me _ .

Limbs began stretching out to take hold of Luke, and Han gripped his bicep hard.  “Hey! He’s not going down there!” His other hand loosened his holster strap and prepared to pull out his blaster.

“ _ Han _ .”  Luke’s voice was hoarse and strangled.  “Let me go.”

“The hell I am!”

“You cannot deny Waru,” an Ithorian warned him.  Was everybody in this joint possessed now?

“I’ll be the  _ first _ .”

Luke squeezed his eyes shut and cried out, then twisted his arm free in that maddening way he could just  _ do _ when he wanted to.  He collapsed to his knees, but instantly the beings around them had their hands and paws and tentacles on him, lifting him up and leading him down into the pit before the altar as they shoved and held Han back.

“ _ Luke!  Kid! _  Listen to me!  This isn’t right!”  But his shouts went ignored, and Luke was delivered up to that great golden glob.  He couldn’t stand and remained on his knees before it, wavering as if drunk.

The upper part of the creature leaned down, its “head” undulating into a curved point like a viper poised to strike.  This time its voice resembled a sibilant purr.  _ For so long I have awaited one of your kind, and you are brighter than I ever hoped _ .

Although Luke was far away, the acoustics of the temple carried the labored sound of his breath all the way back to Han’s ears.  “I…don’t understand…this power,” he whispered raggedly. “I only came…to learn.”

_ You wish to be free of this pain, do you not? _

“Y-yes.  But…why?”

_ So would I.  I hunger, starchild, in this place where I do not belong.  Come, and let us be free together _ .

Before Luke could give any sort of response, the creature’s scales melted together and its form expanded to surround him like massive wings that snapped shut and engulfed him.

“ _ Luke! _ ” Han bellowed, pushing and swinging wildly against the beings restraining him, fists smashing into craniums and jaws and ribs.

A Bith tried to placate him.  “Don’t fear! The Great Healer will restore him!”

“He’ll need to restore  _ you _ after I’m done with the lot of you,” he growled, getting ahold of his blaster again.  The floor began to vibrate and his teeth rattled again at the profound thrum issuing from the creature; gradually it rose in pitch to a deafening roar as its body elongated into a shining ovoid and lifted off of the altar into the air.  Many in the crowd with more sensitive auditory organs wailed at the assault on their hearing, and consternation began to overtake them. Obviously they hadn’t had a show like this before.

Abruptly the roar turned into a tortured shriek, causing even Han to stop and clap his hands over his ears, his eyes watering.  Waru’s form began to spasm violently, ichor spraying as its golden plating was twisted and rent apart.

And in a spectacularly vile and unceremonious reaction, it ejected Luke from its innards and dumped him onto the altar.

No one said a word at first; they could only gape in shock at this unexpected outcome.  Han took the opportunity to elbow his way down into the pit. Luke was coated nearly head to toe in ichor, and to Han’s horror, he seemed to be lifeless.  Grabbing him by the armpits, Han dragged him off the altar and rolled him onto his left side. “C’mon, kid, I’m not losing you to this gilded nerf steak.” He struck Luke hard on the back a couple of times and was relieved to be rewarded with a weak gasp.

Above them Waru writhed in apparent agony and slowly collapsed in on itself, shrinking in erratic convulsions that pulsed out an increasingly brightening light.  Once the orb was the size of a pebble the light grew blinding, and Han had to shut his eyes and avert his face. Cries of astonishment and grief went up all around.

With a pop that made Han think for a split second that his eardrums had ruptured, and a rushing gale like the opening of an airlock into hard vacuum, the light – and Waru – vanished.

_ Good riddance _ , he thought.

Luke struggled to breathe through a wet cough; Han hated to think he was going to wind up with some exotic pneumonia from having inhaled some of that gunk.  He kept thumping his back to loosen up his lungs. “Good job giving that guy indigestion,” he remarked.

Right then he realized that every eye in the place was on them again, and none of them looked happy or willing to help.

“You’re welcome,” Han told them sourly.

Somebody shouted, “Waru has abandoned us!  You blasphemers drove the Great Healer away!”

“Yeah, guess our work here is done.”  Han brandished his blaster and started to hoist Luke up with his other arm.  “And you’re gonna let us be on our way or I’m putting more holes in those mouths of yours.  What’re you gonna do, wait here and beg the blob to come back? Go home and find something else to grovel over!”

He knew he was damn lucky no else here was smart enough to be armed.

Grunting in anger more than exertion, he pulled Luke up and over his shoulders and carried him out of the temple.

The way back was exceptionally long.

*

Luke kept mumbling incoherent, guttural gibberish that barely resembled language, and as scared stiff as Han was for him, he was just about ready to smack him around by the time they reached the  _ Falcon _ .   _ Wake up and make sense, kid, or shut up _ .  And he had no idea if the ichor contained any digestive juices that might be eating at his skin, but he hadn’t felt any burning sensation on his own back, so perhaps not.

Han deposited him onto the deck between the medical cabin and the ‘fresher – he wasn’t going to wipe this shit off the furnishings.  What was it with his idiot kid brother getting himself nearly killed and needing to be stripped to his skivvies?

The hard spray from the sonic shower set to full blast finally knocked some sense back into Luke, provoking a startled shout from him as he jerked and curled up in instinctive defense.

“It’s all right, I’m just getting you clean.  This stuff ain’t coming off easy.”

Shuddering and hyperventilating, his eyes wide and wild, Luke reached out blindly as if to block the water’s jets; Han dialed down the flow and grasped his shoulders.  “Luke, it’s okay. We’re safe on the  _ Falcon _ .  You hear me?”

Luke made eye contact, and promptly threw up.

Swearing inwardly, Han reminded himself that at least it was better he tossed his guts where he could be hosed down.

Luke went back to being mostly catatonic after that, for better or worse – he was docile and compliant to Han’s care, but it was a huge red flag for brain damage, and it was still going to take hours to get to the nearest location with a decent enough medical facility.  He sure as hell wasn’t going to try to get him seen by anyone on this dump.

At some point after they entered hyperspace Han thought he heard a soft noise while he was in the galley pouring himself a shot of whiskey.  When he returned to the med cabin, Luke was sitting up looking very confused but finally lucid.

“Han, what happened?”

“Y’mean, why are you naked under those blankets after you threw up all over yourself in the shower without enjoying a single drink?” Han knocked back the shot and pointed for emphasis.  “Which you still owe me, by the way.”

Luke blinked at him, thoroughly perplexed, hands self-consciously fisting beneath the blankets and drawing them a bit closer around himself.

“It’s ‘cause that thing ate you.  And spat you back out, obviously.”  It occurred to Han that although Luke recognized him, he might not be aware of a damn thing else otherwise.  “You remember where we were?”

“Crseih Station.  I take it we’ve already left?”

“Of course.  Shortest vacation ever.”

Luke tried a wan smile.  “Worst vacation ever?”

Han scowled.  “It’s in the top three.  Don’t push it.”

Growing pensive, Luke peered down at himself and mumbled, “Guess it didn’t have any teeth.”  He sucked in a breath and coughed, frowning incredulously. “It  _ ate _ me?”

“What’s so hard to believe about that?  Wampas, rancors, Dathomiri witches – everything finds you tasty.”

His cheeks flushed.  At the very least his memory had a blank.  “What’s the last thing you remember?” Han asked him.

Luke’s brows knitted as he thought back – and if Han was being honest, he still seemed a little spacey – but his expression slowly deepened into something approaching horror.  “Han…” he whispered.

“What?  You okay?”  Han came a few steps closer, watching him warily.  When he didn’t answer he added, “Hey. Kid. I’m right here. Stay with me.”

Luke lifted his eyes back to him, looking terribly lost.  “Han, I can’t feel the Force.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was too quiet.

During the early days of the academy, he recalled finding Streen one afternoon sitting in the refectory and watching the other apprentices, and when he’d caught the glint of tears on his cheeks he sat down beside him to ask if he was all right.  Streen had turned to him and smiled and simply replied, “It’s so quiet.”

In the present, Luke stared down at the back of his hands clutching the edge of his bed, tracing the lines of veins and wires, following their paths along with the folds of the sheets and cracks in the stone floor.  The room was thick with silence the Force could no longer penetrate. Outside whisper birds flitted above the rainforest canopy and woolamanders roamed the branches and howlers boomed for their prey.

And he couldn’t feel any of it.

It was easy to think of his childhood, the simpler time when he was ignorant of what bound the universe together, but he had to consider whether there was ever a time in his life that the Force hadn’t graced with its influence.  As a small boy he’d gazed up at the stars and been filled with indescribable emotion, not comprehending that it went beyond a desire for adventure. The Force was the only reason he’d pulled those maneuvers in Beggar’s Canyon without ending up a smear against the rock.

His first encounter with ysalamiri had been one of the most disorienting experiences, but it was ultimately temporary.  He felt as if he’d spent the past three weeks underwater and missing a hand all over again; as if he was completely colorblind, seeing the world cast only in shades of gray.

A lingering respiratory infection had been cleared up by antibiotics and neural scans of every sort found no brain injury.  No foreign substances turned up in his blood or systems. In sheer desperation he’d had Cilghal dig up one of the Force aura scanners out of storage, just to verify what she and Kam had already pronounced.  By all appearances, he was as Force-sensitive as the rock of the Massassi temple.

Not even the Dark Side was open to him.  Small blessings should be counted, at least.

Grey eyes and the smoky veils that shrouded them haunted his memory.  Despite the futility of it, he couldn’t help but wonder what Callista would think to see him now in the same predicament.  He’d made his peace with her departure, but the healing wound was being picked at the edges again.

_ And what should I expect her to say about it?  That we can be together now because we’re equals?   _ Luke mentally cringed, embarrassed at himself even in privacy.  As much as it hurt, his continued presence and condition had nothing to do with her pursuit of self-discovery.

He’d promised with his mouth that he loved her for who she was, not for her mutual power, and only agreed to help her in her quest to regain the Force because it was  _ her _ desire, and  _ meant _ it all – but there was no denying the fact that he’d been drawn to her as a Jedi. She was the embodiment of everything he wished to know about them, the past come alive; his thirst for knowledge was slaked as his need for companionship was conveniently filled.  He’d grasped her too tightly and tried to yoke her with the burden he carried, just as she’d returned to a life and a time and even a body that was not her own.

For a man of faith, Luke wasn’t nearly as superstitious as some would believe, but the notion that this was some sort of curse wormed its way into his thoughts with a morose humor.  They’d defied death for love – for selfish gain – and now the Force was repaying them by taking back its gift.

But what in the worlds did a sentient slab of raw flesh armored in precious metal stationed aboard an artificial planetoid orbiting a black hole have to do with  _ this? _

A despondent restlessness kept filling him lately, making it difficult to read or focus on anything for more than a few minutes, and driving him to want little more than to run or exercise himself to exhaustion so that he wouldn’t have much energy left to think.  It was both humbling and maddening to have to arm himself with a blaster and an assortment of other self-defense implements for protection against the jungle’s fauna – as all newcomers were warned – instead of employing the Force to project an aura of harmony or avoidance.  Even more so to find out how rusty his aim had gotten.

Dressing lightly in a singlet and old trousers beneath his holster and belt, Luke left his quarters and made his way through the temple with minimal interaction.  Awkwardness, guilt, and humiliation permeated every interaction he had, as he was unable to shake the feeling that he didn’t belong here anymore.  _ His _ academy,  _ his _ students,  _ his _ effort, and he was no longer one of them.

The moment his boots touched the earth outside he took off in a sprint.

He was well aware that it was ego he was grieving.  Beyond following in his father’s footsteps for vengeance and then redemption, he’d committed himself to the Jedi Order for the sake of the galaxy’s well-being, not his own benefit.  The Force had existed since time immemorial before him and would continue long after his remains were dust, and while the light of the Jedi was still a dim flicker it had not been extinguished.  However few they were, there were others now who would keep the flame alive. And there was nothing preventing him from remaining a scholar. He could seek formal education in history, philosophy, or theology and return to assist Tionne as a researcher or archivist; the academy already employed a handful of administrative assistants and technicians, and even more volunteers and patrons came and went, so the  _ praxeum _ was far from cloistered apart from non-sensitives.  There were also numerous government agencies within the New Republic who would kill for his services based on experience alone, and countless more causes throughout the galaxy who could use another helper.  He had a  _ family _ to spend time with.  Life wasn’t closed to him – he just needed to get his bearings.

The dark trees whipped by him and his lungs burned despite the damp warmth of the air.  He’d taken a less familiar route today, and without the prescience to avoid it, his foot caught the edge of a shallow root, dropping him hard and face-down into a graceless sprawl.

That was an appropriate summary of his sentiments as of late.

*

“Who says you have to do anything?”

Luke’s eyes flicked up from the lavender spirit he’d been studying in his glass.  “Says the tireless businessman,” he said, brows arching.

Lando leaned back against the plush cream leather of their booth.  “You know that old adage – ‘it’s not work when it’s pleasure.’ This is my life and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“It hasn’t come without cost and a high level of commitment.”

“True, but it’s still a world of difference, and we’re not here to compete.”  He subtly glanced down at Luke’s right hand. Even after all these years, a distant guilt and uneasiness lingered at entertaining Luke’s company here on Bespin.  He hated to think that Vader’s shadow might still – maybe forever – lurk just around the corners of the pristine white corridors. Or was it him making the association and Luke, in that remarkable resilience of his, had managed to move on?

“It goes without saying,” Lando continued, “but since you can be a little hard of hearing, you’ve already earned your rest a thousand times over.  We’ve both hounded Han and Leia about taking time for themselves, and you’re not immune to that.” He leaned forward again, resting his elbows across the polished tabletop.  “I know this is a rough deal, but you’ve got to make the best of what you’re handed.”

“Or not handed.”

Lando blinked at him for a second, and Luke’s perfectly sober face cracked just a sliver, one corner of his mouth upturning.  His prosthetic hand curled slowly, deliberately, off the table and closed around his glass to bring it to his lips.

_ Kriff and bless the man _ , Lando thought with a tangled burst of relief and exasperation.  “You understand,” he replied with gruff affection.

“Of course.  Otherwise we wouldn’t be sitting here.”  His eyes closed briefly as the alcohol went down, and perhaps at the memories.

“Listen.  Let this be an opportunity.  All this time you’ve been defined by what you can  _ do _ for others.”

“But I’ve found fulfillment in that.  In helping others.”

“Fair enough, but along the way you’ve had to give up bits and pieces of yourself, and everyone’s more than happy to keep taking them. You can’t keep going until there’s nothing left.  Don’t worry about being  _ useful _ .  Take some time to find what you  _ love _ .  Something you’ve never had the chance to do.  And don’t let anyone – including yourself – make you think you don’t deserve it.”

Luke smiled faintly into his drink.  “This isn’t really anything I didn’t expect you to say.”

“But maybe you needed to hear it anyway.  That’s what I’m here for.” Lando raised his own glass and clinked it gently against Luke’s.  “To new prospects. The best revenge when the universe karks you sideways.”

A puff of laughter escaped Luke as he toasted him in return.

*

It seemed a little  _ too _ contrived.

_ She’d _ been the “washout,” having to deal with his indifference and self-righteousness and thinly veiled disapproval, and then he went gallivanting off on one of his typical suicidal jaunts, easing his pre-mid-life crisis with a touch of necrophilia along the way, and now here he was, just as ordinary as the days they’d spent trekking through the Myrkr forest.  All because as usual, he’d been poking his nose where it didn’t belong.

It was exceptionally petty of her to be here.  She should be above rubbing his face in it. Truthfully, it wasn’t as satisfying as it should have felt, because she’d never imagined permanently stripping him of his Force abilities as a remotely viable solution to her annoyance.

Strange to think that she wouldn’t wish what she’d gone through, to a limited degree, on someone who’d upgraded from worst enemy to insufferable nuisance.  But at least it might take him down a peg or two, and make him a bit less grating to be around.

Mara found him in the hangar running through some manual pre-flight checks on his old decommissioned X-wing, not yet dressed in the lurid orange suit.  For a moment she forgot that he could no longer sense her and expected him to pluck his head out of the compartment as she approached. But he remained completely engrossed in whatever he was doing, forcing her to have to announce herself.

“Cleaning the cobwebs out of that thing?” she asked.

Luke startled slightly – whether at the sheer novelty of being caught off guard or at her particular presence, Mara couldn’t know – and yanked his head clear, eyes wide.  He ran his gaze over her before replying neutrally, “Hello, Mara.” His mouth remained open for a second as if he meant to keep talking, but he refrained, instead staring at her with a mixture of self-consciousness and disappointment, tinged with regret.  When he finally did speak again he turned away, busying himself with finishing his task. “I take it Lando told you?”

There was no mistaking the hint of bitterness in the question; the obvious unspoken thought had to be  _ And you’re here to gloat? _

Mara crossed her arms.  “The subject came up.” She wasn’t going to admit that Lando had mentioned it to her out of concern and intended for Karrde to know as well.  If any grudge-holding crime lords and delusional Imperials caught wind of Luke Skywalker’s sudden mortality, they’d jump at the opportunity to send their assassin lackeys after him.  She  _ really _ wasn’t going to admit that, deep down, maybe she  _ was _ just the slightest bit worried in some intangible way.  But she wasn’t his keeper unless it came with a hefty payment.  If it was a legitimate problem, his sister could surround him with a legion of discreet Noghri bodyguards anyway.

Luke closed the hatch and wiped his hands on an already-filthy rag jammed through his belt, still not wanting to look directly at her.  “Are you going to stay now that I’m leaving?” His sarcasm was blunted by the softness of his tone and the slump of his shoulders.

Her eyebrows rose toward her hairline.  “You’re actually leaving for good?”

“I don’t know, Mara.  For now, at least.” Luke shook his head, plainly hurt and either too worn or too careless to hide it, and Mara realized he’d taken her question seriously, as if she was ready to commit herself in his absence out of pure spite.

“ _ Stars _ , are you dense.  Get over yourself, I’m not here for that.”

“Then why  _ are _ you here?”  Beneath the irritation, his voice held an odd note of hope.

She didn’t lack reasons; the trouble was in deciding which, if any, were valid or admissible.  Stalling for time, Mara proposed, “How about one last ride in the  _ Fire? _ ”

Surprise and hesitance flickered across his face, but he gestured with a hand toward the sunlight pouring into the hangar.  “Lead the way then.”

She didn’t bother to dial down the inertial compensator this time, or pull any maneuvers.  Once they were in low orbit, without looking at him, Mara said, “I just…didn’t know what to make of this.”  It was as close to the truth as she would get. Because this was unexpected as hell and made no sense whatsoever.  Because she was genuinely curious about what he was going to do with his life now that he was facing such an abrupt turning point, as she once had.

He remained silent for a minute, and she tilted her head aside just enough to study him out of the corner of her eye, catching his sadness.

“That makes two of us,” he replied, keeping his own attention fixed on the blackness of space above the bright marbled curve of the moon.  When he finally chose to make eye contact with her, his gaze was wistful. “Does this really have to be our last ride?”

The comment hadn’t been literal, but she’d spin it as such.  “It depends.”

“On what?”

Her hand tightened on the yoke even though the ship was on autopilot.  “Don’t do anything stupid, Skywalker.”

A tight smile broke through the melancholy.  “When haven’t I?”

“Then start now.”


	3. Chapter 3

Old habits were hard to shed.  There was an inherent loneliness in meditation now, but Luke engaged in it morning and evening as he had for years.  He could still focus on his heartbeat and the tide of his breath, or the ceaseless streams of traffic across Coruscant’s skies, or the gentle rush of running water.  There were numerous decorative fountains located around the Imperial Palace, but Leia had gifted him a miniature one soon after he’d come to stay with her.

_ This is  _ not _ what I had in mind when I said I wish we could see each other more often _ , she’d told him.

Oddly, he’d expected her to be more upset at him for his foolishness, for squandering his abilities on a lark.  But Leia had quickly detected his shame and set him straight with firm reproof.

_ You were my brother and my friend well before you were ever an asset, Luke.  You should know that _ .

Opening his eyes after this morning meditation, Luke let them rest on the nightstand by the bed.  His lightsaber lay stored in the bottom drawer. He unfolded his legs and reached over to pull it out and hold it in his lap.

Another lifetime ago, he couldn’t imagine getting dressed without a blaster at his hip, or further back, his toolbelt and macrobinoculars. Wearing or carrying his lightsaber was still second nature; not feeling its familiar weight at his side or in a pocket would leave him thinking he was incomplete.

He grasped that thought before it passed away, turning it over in his mind.  When had he started thinking of himself as less of a person without the Force, as someone other than a Jedi?  He’d never considered anyone else in his life who wasn’t Force-sensitive inferior to him.

_ I am a Jedi, like my father before me _ .

Luke ran a thumb across the ridges in his lightsaber’s hilt, remembering the fraught days when he first gathered its components and assembled them around the focusing crystal.  It was difficult not to feel that his father’s legacy would end here – despite the fact that the academy would continue – and that he was a failure to both Anakin and his mentors.  Obi-Wan and Yoda had sacrificed the ends of their lives to ensure he would survive and pass on their knowledge personally.

His purpose as a Jedi wasn’t bound to this weapon, though.  He’d cast it aside like scrap when everyone – his teachers, the Emperor, his own hatred and despair – had prepared or compelled him to slay his father for their own reasons.  His lightsaber was no more or less him than his prosthetic hand: an important part, but not the whole.

Taking a deep breath, Luke stood and stepped away from the bed and other furnishings to give himself clearance to move.  The guest bedroom was spacious enough for him to safely go through the motions of a basic kata without igniting the lightsaber.  At this early hour, everyone else was still asleep, but between his bare feet and the soft carpet he wouldn’t make a sound.

On the Lars homestead, he’d risen every morning in full awareness of the futility of working against the desert.  They worked anyway.

His stance widened, hips loosened and knees flexed.   _ Check the hydroponic tank levels.  Make sure the rifle’s loaded _ .

He could go through the kata by muscle memory alone, though he could not feel the answering echo of balance through the Force with the shift into each position.   _ Scour the vaporator filters.  Get the Treadwell charging for the night _ .

The desert always encroached, infiltrating whatever was built upon it.  And every day they fought it back to wring some semblance of a life from it.

Luke repeated the kata over and over until he broke a sweat and his thighs and shoulders burned from the effort.  To finish the exercise, he sank to his knees and closed his eyes as he caught his breath.

Waru was gone with no indication of a reappearance; from what Han had managed to track down through his contacts, Crseih Station had been forced to evacuate shortly after their departure when the crystallizing white dwarf was finally consumed by the black hole.  Nothing could be proven, but there was speculation the entity had somehow manifested as a result of the warping of spacetime, or perhaps from the secret Imperial experiments rumored to have been carried out aboard the station decades before. With the region now quiet and empty, there was no reason to return.  And after the journey he and Callista had taken, Luke knew another pilgrimage for himself would be fruitless. The only hope he had was that this blindness would be temporary and resolve on its own over time.

Until then – if it ever came – there was nothing more for him to do than to persevere, in whatever way was left to him.

This time he returned the lightsaber to its resting place within the nightstand and locked the drawer.  When he dressed after his shower, his belt went unadorned.

*

It was disconcerting to see her twin and  _ not _ feel him.

Their relationship had started out like this, but they’d now spent far more years being able to sense each other.  Ever since her mind had been opened at Endor, Leia had taken a great comfort in Luke’s presence, and despite all the emotional challenges the Force presented, that at least was a gift she deeply cherished. Now she could only sense her brother in the vague, undefined way she registered Han - a familiar warmth that remained closed to her, something she was perfectly accustomed to in her marriage but not with Luke.

Well.  In the recent past that wasn’t entirely true, sadly; embroiled in his personal struggles, Luke tended to withdraw and lock himself down tightly in a bid to spare her the pain, as if that would keep her from worrying.  The  _ fool _ .  It was less distressing to be completely blocked out of his thoughts but have him opening up to her verbally.

It’d been ages since they’d done this, sitting curled up on the massive floor pillows in her study reading a book on their datapads and sharing each other’s insights on its content, while Han got the children ready for bed.  Luke’s shoulder leaned against hers, their heads nearly touching, and after he’d been silent for a few minutes Leia’s eyes left her screen to watch him.

She knew how devastating this change had to be for him, just as it was for Callista.  But having him so near and  _ present _ again, it was hard for her to quantify this as a loss.

*

The precious family time had to be interrupted by reality before too long.

Officially, Luke had only taken an unspecified leave of absence, entrusting the Jedi academy to Kam and Tionne’s co-leadership.  There hadn’t been much debate about whether he would eventually come clean, as humiliating as it was; hiding his condition would not only be unethical, but unfeasible.  The next occasion he was called upon to exercise his powers for the good of the New Republic would force a confession, and it was better to take ownership of the issue ahead of time.

That didn’t make it any more appreciated or less dreadful.

“Experience can only take one so far.  What are the qualifications of a Jedi? Namely, a demonstrable psychokinetic ability and enhancement of physical senses, strength, and agility beyond natural means.”

“You could say much the same of droids.  Physical power and manipulation is only a facet.  It is the wisdom of the Jedi that has been the conscience of the Republic.”

“But even that wisdom has come from a connection to a purportedly cosmic source, has it not?  Without that influence, what sets the Jedi apart from the common philosopher?”

“This is an exceptional circumstance, and you’re all aware that we, and this entire academy, this entire  _ Order _ resurrected from genocide, wouldn’t be here without this man.  Frankly, your entire government wouldn’t be here without his help.”

“How exceptional, though?  If even a single instance of the loss of Force sensitivity has been established, how are we to know it won’t manifest again?  My question still stands: what are the qualifications of a Jedi? This is more than the conversion and continuation of a proselyte from outside the faith.  Would we still consider a mechanic qualified for their trade without their tools or even limbs to wield them?”

Luke winced inwardly, though his face betrayed nothing, resisting the urge to massage his temples.  Leia, Tionne and Kam – the latter two transmitting via hologram from Yavin 4 in the middle of the night, bless them – were all glaring daggers at Borsk Fey’lya.  This whole affair with the Ruling Council felt pointless; as much as it hurt, ceding authority of the academy was the logical and inevitable choice, and turning it into an argument over his merits and the legal definition of a Jedi was a flagellation he hadn’t asked for.  His supporters meant well in wanting his status maintained chiefly out of acknowledgement for his achievements and sacrifices, but even he had to concede the incongruity of a Force-blind leader of the new Jedi Order. He was no longer in touch with the will of the Force.

“These are all valuable questions,” Luke began evenly, leaning forward onto the table and clasping his hands together, “some of which I should ponder and seek answers to in my newfound time.  But you’re right, Borsk.” The Bothan’s mane shivered in that subtle way Luke had come to recognize as a signifier that he’d taken the admission as condescension, and Luke didn’t particularly care about correcting that assumption.  “I once resigned my commission as a general when I realized it no longer aligned with my personal convictions as a Jedi sworn to preserving life. I have to consider what’s best for my – for our – students, and they need the guidance of those who are in tune with the same power they’re committing their entire lives to.”

The notion of preparing himself to one day step down and detach from this new order hadn’t yet even entered his mind – it was still in its infancy, and no loving parent would want to be parted from their young child.  It came too soon and too abruptly. This must have been what it was like for his and Leia’s mother, when tragedy had ripped their family apart. He hoped that the decision to give them up and separate them had been consensual, a terrible but necessary cost to protect them.  If she’d known, she’d set aside her own desires for their safety, and even for the future of the galaxy itself, a heroism that was never sung among the accolades of the Rebellion’s victories.

Yoda’s and his father’s frail figures in their final moments arose in his memory, along with his last sight of Callista.  Oftentimes true love was in knowing when to let go.

In spite of facing a group of politicians, Luke found his throat aching, and quickly sought to suppress the wave of grief.  This wasn’t the place to be open with his emotions, even if a few would be understanding. Meeting eyes with Leia, Kam, and Tionne, he said, “Effective today I hereby relinquish my title as Jedi Master and cede authority of the Jedi Academy to Kam and Tionne Solusar.  But I would like to remain a contributor, the nature of which will be determined at a later time.”

Tionne gave him a bittersweet smile.  “You know the doors are always open to you.”  Luke was taken aback by what seemed to be a sheen of tears across Kam’s eyes, but he was otherwise stoic.

Leia squeezed his shoulder, and Luke reached up to grasp her hand in gratitude.


	4. Chapter 4

Mara assumed Luke would no longer be making appearances at elite society gatherings, but she’d failed to take into account that the Chief of State and her husband could still mutually claim him as their plus-one.  She wasn’t sure if that was a benefit or a punishment, for either of their sakes.

Between the alcohol and lack of the Force, though, maybe things would get interesting for once.

She had the small pleasure of being able to spot him first, now prepared with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to sense her across the planet, let alone the ballroom, until she was close enough.  Being able to jump-scare him at her leisure was a mildly sadistic indulgence she would definitely like to take advantage of.

At a distance, she could see his attire was neither the rough and dowdy robes in all their bland shades of brown nor ostentatious, but a stylish contemporary dress tunic and tailored trousers as sharp as one of her blades, showcasing all the lean angles of his figure.  Improvement number one. He was sticking close to Leia and looking conspiratorial, until she pulled him close and whispered something into his ear. His expression quickly shifted to surprise and a flurry of consternation and nervousness as his gaze roamed across the ballroom and managed to locate her.

_ Ah, shavit _ .  Of course  _ Leia _ could sense her.

Her cover blown, Mara returned his look pointedly and began working her way through the crowd toward them.  Seeing her approach, Leia excused herself with a ghost of a smile and left Luke alone.

Once she was close enough to speak out of range of the nearest ears she asked, “So where’s the lightsaber?”  It was a calculated risk opening the conversation with  _ that _ , but she really wanted to know where he’d shoved it in an outfit that tight.

She’d expected embarrassment or discomfort, but after a contemplative moment he just shrugged lightly.  “It’s not on me.”

Mara chided him with a click of her tongue.  “It’s still useful.”

“That’s true.”  His eyes made a show of appraising her tastefully risqué gown, acknowledging that her own lightsaber was always concealed somewhere on her.  “But…” His gaze grew distant again. “I needed to. Put it away, I mean.”

So he wasn’t going to cling to the past.  Fair enough. She gave him a sage nod. “I take it you’re staying out of trouble then?”

“Pretty much, unless you include my niece and nephews.”

The media hadn’t been kind to him in the wake of his resignation, as expected; all manner of speculation abounded, from personal scandals to misconduct to being unable to handle the pressure.  As bizarre, alarming, and distasteful as she’d found his relationship with Not-Cray, it was scumbucket-low of the talking heads to be able to sniff out just enough hearsay to spin lurid tales of Luke falling from grace after having an affair with one of his own students.  Even if the truth was morbidly worse and beyond their puny imaginations. Keeping his head down and ignoring it all was the only sane thing for him to do.

“They’re only half the menace their father is.”  Mara took a small sip of her wine. Luke had nothing in his hands; was he still teetotaling at these events?  That would be unfortunate. “I thought you’d never show your face again at these if you could help it.”

He pulled a smile that resembled a grimace.  “They’re not any better, but sometimes I like to be here for Leia.  At least I’m just a guest now, I don’t really need to represent anything.  Besides being a veteran, and I’m far from the only one. It’s…freeing.” The smile became a genuine grin.  “I’ve been getting back in touch with the Rogues, spending a little more time with some old friends. Of course, they’re busy too.”

“But not in the same way.”  Not nearly the same world-crushing, relentlessly burdensome way.  They had responsibilities and families, not an entire religion and public institution on their shoulders.

“Yeah.”  Luke slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, looking affably undignified.  “Not too busy for a drink here and there.”

“Speaking of which – ”

The instant the words were coming out of her mouth her danger sense flared.  When it was over, Mara was still convinced that it was the sight of her instinctive reaction that saved him – Luke had lifted his head and seen the widening of her eyes and tensing of her muscles as she caught the glint of a stiletto.  By the time she was palming her holdout blaster, and a wiry gray arm was melting out of the shadows of the marbled wall, Luke had his assailant grappled and screaming with almost the same unearthly speed and grace as he would’ve summoned with the Force. A swift chokehold later, the assassin was laid out like a sack of fertilizer, her hairpin blade clattering loudly to the floor.

The Noghri prostrated himself beside the unconscious woman.  “I have failed you, Son of Vader.”

Luke knelt low by him and placed a hand on his forearm.  “No, it’s all right, Barkhimkh. None of us are perfect. Please rise.”  When he did so, reluctantly, Luke smiled at him and added softly, “You’ve taught me well.”

Mara’s eyes saucered as she was lashing the still-dazed assassin’s wrists with a plas-tie.  He was receiving self-defense training from the Noghri? She should have been relieved that he still had enough neurons left to incorporate additional ways to protect himself, but a fraction of her ego was affronted by the idea that he could be just as adept at hand-to-hand as she was.

Rapid footfalls were approaching through the flustered crowd, which had given them a wide berth, and Leia blew right by her and dropped to grab Luke in a fierce hug.  “Luke, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t – ”

“It’s not your fault,” he murmured into her hair, and kissed her.  Leia glanced up gratefully at Mara and Barkhimkh.

After palace security stepped in to take custody of the assassin, everyone else flocked to Luke with their superficial outrage and well-wishes, empty platitudes he received politely but was eager to break away from.  Mara wanted to follow the guards to use her credentials and proximity as a witness to demand a better look at the woman’s weapon and see if she had any identifiable markings, but now that the incident was over she could see that Luke was rather shaken beneath the mask of calm confidence.  A talk with security could wait.

The intrusion brought the party to an end, but it was a while before she managed to corner him again on a small balcony, where he was lost in thought studying the night vista.  She didn’t say anything at first, just joining him by parking her elbows on the railing.

“I used to have something to look forward to,” he eventually said, his voice rougher than she expected.  “I know we all die. I’ve been expecting it for so long it wasn’t really a factor anymore, no matter what I faced.”  He stared down at his hands dangling over the edge. “But once I became a Jedi, at least I had the reassurance that I could still reach some of those I lost, and when it was my time to go, I might be able to see them again.  And be with them.”

Mara’s stomach dropped.  She was out of her element here, as usual; the concept of an afterlife never gained a foothold in her mind.  Somehow the idea of a continued existence beyond physical death, whether eternal or finite, seemed more nightmarish to her than a blessing.  What good was it to live forever when you had to spend it contemplating all the mistakes and wrongs you’d done? Better a clean end and oblivion, the only true release.  But Luke was sentimental, of course, and she couldn’t begrudge him the things he wanted to regain that had been torn away from him.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen now,” he whispered.  When he turned to face her, his fear and sorrow were naked, his eyes glazed with tears.

Maybe she should’ve followed palace security after all, but it was too late.

“Then don’t waste your time thinking about it.  Enjoy what you have now. Make it count.” Mara cringed at herself.  That sounded nearly as vapid as a tenth-cred greeting token.

He didn’t respond, and she forced herself to meet his eyes again.  He was staring at her a little too intensely, and she found her gaze drawn to his mouth.

_ Oh no, that’s  _ not _ what I signed up for _ .  She wasn’t here to be his existentialist consolation.  Working saliva back into her own mouth, Mara pushed back from the railing, straightening.  “So you’ve picked up a thing or two from the Noghri?”

He blinked and sniffed away the well of emotions with both disappointment and relief.  “Uh, yeah. It was Leia’s idea. It’s…pretty invigorating, I have to say.”

She laced her fingers behind her back and cracked her knuckles.  “Care to let me in on that? Or are you sworn to clan secrecy?”

A grin started fighting its way across his lips.  “I kind of am.”

“That wouldn’t preclude me from observing your technique in a match.”

He laughed, but not in a disparaging manner; he knew better after the few times she’d annihilated him on the Yavin temple mats.  “I guess not.”

*

The warm glow of Yoda’s home encompassed him, and the diminutive Jedi Master stood by the kitchen fire stirring his pot of rootleaf.  But while Luke could perceive himself speaking, feeling his throat working, Yoda’s back remained turned to him. Surely he was displeased with him again.  But then his shoulders slumped and the tips of his ears drooped and Luke wondered if he was merely talking to the air, and Yoda couldn’t hear him at all. Luke stretched out a hand, trying to touch his shoulder, but couldn’t reach him somehow despite the cramped space.

Then he was outside, trudging through the swamp and the jungle, finding himself facing the vine-strewn opening to the cave.  Without lowering himself into it, he managed to pass down into its darkness, as if it rose up to usher him in. Instead of slick roots and wet earth and slithering creatures, metal corridors met him, sometimes distinctive, sometimes blurring together into a haphazard maze of nondescript passages that could have been any vessel, any facility he’d ever set foot in.  The cool, angular gray walls and glaring glowpanels of Cloud City’s maintenance level and the Death Stars shifted into the flickering decay of the  _ Eye of Palpatine _ .

At the end of the twisting path was the great round observation window that had sucked him out onto the gantry after his father’s attack had shattered it, though beyond it lay not the hollow shaft of Cloud City’s core but the void of space.  The blackness between the stars was somehow deeper than he’d ever seen, almost tangible in its intensity, and the points of light were humming with a frequency that pierced his bones, rising to an ultrasonic shriek –

Luke startled awake, his ears and head still ringing.  It wasn’t yet morning; Coruscant’s skies remained inky above the endless city’s amber sparkle, and for a moment he felt as though the shadows of his room were closing in to swallow him up.

Unsettled, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair, and tapped on a bedside light.  Maybe a cup of calming tisane and a quiet talk with C-3PO would help him shake off the oppressive sense of unease enough to go back to sleep.

*

There was something both refreshing and daunting about the prospect of being a university student at his age.  No doubt there were more than a few institutions that would gladly hand him an honorary degree on his fame alone, but that would be unsatisfactory.  As useless an education at the Imperial Academy would have been for him – what good was it to receive well-rounded, higher-level secular curriculum soaked in ruthless propaganda? – the fact that he remained legally uneducated up to this point in his life mildly chafed and provoked him to the challenge.  And a challenge it was going to be – without money being an issue, he had nothing to his name but the homeschooling Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen had given him and a distance-learning certificate from Anchorhead that went up in ashes along with the Lars’ homestead.

Luke sat at the comm terminal in Leia’s study, scrolling through standardized galactic academic requirements, his eyes burning from scouring the reams of backlit text.  Money and resources. He lacked none of it, though the former was a bit murky outside of his modest pension. The sheer privilege he had now staggered him in comparison to where he’d come from.  Whatever he couldn’t afford out of his own pockets Leia or Han would easily grant him with hardly a thought, and he had literal worlds of information at his fingertips right here in this room, to say nothing of the countless libraries scattered across Coruscant alone.

He had to both laugh at his young self a little – the impetuous farmboy who had no higher aspirations than getting his butt in something airborne and achieving some recognition for that – and consider him soberly from the desperate lack of opportunity.  Not many on Tatooine wanted more than what they could eke out from its unforgiving wastes, but that was chiefly due to deprivation.  _ Why raise the head from the dust when there’s nothing else to look at _ , one cynical old adage said.

When he’d first come to know Leia, a very small part of him had envied her.  As a princess, in the same nineteen years of life, she’d been light-years ahead of him, and even being a savior of the Rebellion didn’t lessen the occasional feelings of inadequacy.  He knew better now; it was meaningless in the grand scale of things, and she would’ve agreed even back then if she’d ever suspected his feelings before they dissipated. Education had its value, but it was courage and commitment and sacrifice that largely held the Rebellion together against the Empire, coming from the lowliest techs and cooks and quartermasters and guerrilla fighters to the loftiest former senators.

He’d still barely known anything about the Jedi when he’d gone to face his father and the Emperor.

The time for fighting was passing now, though – somewhat – and in times of peace, knowledge was the best preparation against the resurfacing of violence.  This had the potential to be a fascinating new realm for him – not only could he better see from a layman’s perspective how the Jedi were being perceived by the public, but he could continue his cultural studies in greater depth, comparing and contrasting the various Force-venerating peoples and religions scattered across the galaxy.

A high-pitched squeal of laughter followed by raucous giggles and a deep playful growling broke Luke’s attention from the data screen – obviously Han engaging the children in some pre-bedtime shenanigans and getting them to practice their Shyriiwook.  An image surfaced from Luke’s memory of him levitating the twins for the first time and reveling in the innocent nonsense of the maneuver despite both Han and Leia’s disapproval – Han out of sheer paternal paranoia and Leia griping that they were going to be spoiled by it.   _ Isn’t that what an uncle’s supposed to do? _ he’d said with a mischievous grin.

The quick patter of small bare feet came down the hall, and an unruly dark head popped out from the edge of the study’s door frame.  “Uncle Luke!” Jaina called, “Storytime!”

Luke chuckled and sat back from the terminal.  “Are you giving Threepio a break?”

“He’s not back yet with Mom.  S’ok, you’re almost as good with the noises.”

Laughing, he followed her to the children’s bedroom, and sat on the floor to unspool a couple of the fables Aunt Beru used to tell him as a boy.  It was always too tempting and easier to mimic the shriveled, pompous voice of Palpatine as a stand-in for the villainous slave masters, rather than the low, repugnant rumble of Jabba.

Once they were tucked in and falling asleep, Han caught him on the way out and nudged him toward the sitting room.  Only the soft glow of the evening lighting was on, along with the nightscape left to shine through the massive windows.  They both settled onto the lounger, and Han started, “Y’know, this responsibility thing…I know it’s eating at you. Just wanted to point out…you ever thought about finally having a kid or three?”

Luke side-eyed him.  “That kind of involves someone else.”

“Usually, smartass.  You know what I’m talking about.  This whole scholar thing – I’m not saying don’t do it.  If it makes you happy, go for it. But maybe start thinking about making some room for being a dad down the line.  All the reward and just as big a pain in the neck as being a Jedi Master, let me tell you.” Han leaned further back, stretching and folding his arms behind his head.  “Plus you get the side benefit of kriffin’ whenever you have time.”

Luke narrowed his eyes in a withering glare at the direction of the topic, and Han just grinned lecherously.  Even though he’d grown immune to accidentally walking in on him and Leia going at it in the early years, it still didn’t mean he liked being reminded about it.

Han dropped the shit-eating façade and said quietly, with an air of self-consciousness, “It’s not any less valuable, kid.  Or self-sacrificing. If that’s what you’re going for.”

Luke met his gaze earnestly.  “Of course, Han. I know that.”

“Yeah, but you gotta  _ accept _ it.”


	5. Chapter 5

It occurred to Luke, in an admittedly boneheaded way, that if he’d been using his newfound free time to reach out to old friends, that gesture should extend to Mara, instead of occasionally running into her by accident.  There would be far less chance of that now, and it didn’t exactly speak well to the distance that too easily inserted itself into their friendship.

Being newly self-employed with her own trading company didn’t make her any less busy than she’d been before; on the contrary, her schedule was even more tied up now as she needed to establish herself.  To make things a little easier, Luke offered to fly out to meet her at the location of her choice between transactions –  _ if _ she was up to it.

He was still questioning his decision to purchase a used Incom A-24 Sleuth for his personal transport now that divestment of his title had meant relinquishing the privilege to keep using a military starfighter, even if it was decommissioned.  It wasn’t the practicality of it – for a scout ship, the little Sleuth was fast and very maneuverable, proving itself even through the torture tests he’d inflicted on it. Nor was he the least bit embarrassed about wanting a single-pilot ship that could still accommodate R2 – the thought of flying long distance entirely by himself without the company of the Force or the ability to check out in a hibernation trance was abysmal.  But the deep-seated selfishness of wanting to fly something remotely evocative of a starfighter from yesteryear kept conjuring those nostalgic feelings like a less unpleasant sensation of phantom limb pain.

The tapcafé they met at was uncharacteristically more upscale than he was used to – not swanky by any means, but an average establishment any common citizen would visit, not a seedy cantina.  A place they could actually eat at without needing inoculations first. Picking up on his unspoken but telegraphed surprise, she’d reminded him,  _ Just because I’ll go into the bowels of the galaxy for business doesn’t mean I want to be there for myself _ .

After letting Mara vent her spleen about her latest negotiations being stymied by ecological restrictions and biocompatibility issues with the substituted species of flora and  _ when the hell did she become a botanist _ , Luke tentatively disclosed his university plans.  She just stared at him for a good, long, uncomfortable minute, cynicism and something like disappointment hardening her eyes even as her mouth twitched into what would’ve probably been a sneer if she’d allowed it to fully show.  Finishing the last of her drink in one swallow, she sat back and kept scrutinizing him in the same manner, as if he was a very inconvenient cargo she’d been forced to ferry. It was all Luke could do to keep himself from physically squirming as much as his mind was.

“Is your head still that far up your ass?” she finally asked.

He was more than accustomed to her insults by now, but it still hit him with the same unexpected shock that tossing her drink in his face would have accomplished, instead of punching him in the throat.

“Although I will say, it’ll be gold watching you take instruction from someone else for once.  You know, when there’s schedules and grades you actually have to meet.”

Luke opened his mouth to retort –

“I’m still not convinced it was a Sith ghost who put you in a coma.  You lectured to yourself in a mirror and went out like a light in five minutes.”

He brought his hands down hard onto the table’s surface, jostling their plates and flatware.  “What do you want me to say, Mara? What do you want out of me? I don’t think anything I’d tell you would meet your  _ exacting _ standards,” he snapped, not caring that he was surely going to make some heads turn in their direction.

“You’re unoriginal.”

“It’s called having a  _ passion _ , Mara.  You have your own.  Apparently I’m not allowed to.”

“There’s a big difference between passion and trying to make up for what you’ve lost.”  She planted her glass down and steepled her fingers across its rim. “You can’t detach yourself from the Jedi Order; you’ll find any way to keep your involvement with it, no matter how much you’ll keep self-flagellating over how you wrote yourself out of it.”  Her ire grew less taunting and more serious. “I’ll admit I was damn lucky I crossed paths with Karrde while I was trying to survive on the fringe, and my experience with him is invaluable, but it’s taken me this long to realize I was still working and making money for someone else.  I have my own ship now – which I didn’t have to spend a chit on, mind you – and my own trading agency. I have a  _ life _ , Skywalker.  After what I did before, that’s pretty damn important for my sanity.  Though I hear it’s generally recommended for everyone else.”

Luke knew she had a point, and that she deserved every ounce of the freedom she’d carved out for herself.  It didn’t stop the bitter pettiness from rising up like a bubble of acid.

“You can’t detach yourself from your money and ambition to think about using your abilities to the fullest.”

Her face remained impassive, but her eyes gave away how deep the barb sank.  She scoffed out a dismissive, humorless laugh. “You had your chance and you lost it.  You had more time for troublemakers than me, so I moved on.” Mara rose from her seat and turned to leave.  “I shouldn’t be surprised to hear nothing’s changed.”

Mentally swearing at himself, Luke sprang up to catch her wrist and stop her; he knew the dig wasn’t worth the two seconds of cruel satisfaction, even though he was sick and tired of taking all her flak.  The damage was already done, but he couldn’t let her go like this. “ _ Mara _ .”

She wrenched her arm free and kept walking, and Luke was keenly aware of the glares of other patrons and the waitstaff, a few of which looked ready to intervene if he persisted.  With a flush of mortification, and knowing complaint would arise if he exited the building without paying the tab, he jammed his hand into a vest pocket and withdrew a wad of local currency far higher than he figured the bill had to be, and left it on the end of the bar counter as he jogged out to follow Mara before she could vanish.

“Do I have to tell you we’re done here?” she growled without looking behind her.

“Mara, I’m – ”

“Save it.  You’re not sorry.  Not in any way that counts.”  Her voice had dropped with the last remark, almost quiet enough to fade away beneath the ambient noise of the city streets.

“Then how can I make it count?” he called after her.

Mara stopped, obviously weighing her options for a few moments before she begrudgingly turned around.  “It won’t if you have to ask,” she pointed out sourly.

“You don’t exactly make it easy.”

She considered him in stony silence, taking a few steps back toward him.  “That’s right, you’re even denser without the Force now. Funny that I thought it’d be the other way around.”

Luke shook his head in exasperation and held out his arms, his hands open.  “Tell me, Mara. I did mean it when I asked. What do you want? What are you looking for?”

She continued approaching, examining him in predatory fashion, leaving him feeling as though her eyes were peeling his flesh back from his bones.  When she was less than an arm’s span away from him she said, “You told me you were afraid to die now, because this is all you have left. Maybe I made a mistake that night too – I saw what you wanted there for a moment and I pushed it away, thinking I didn’t want to settle for being your last resort.  But maybe I should’ve compromised.”

Shock coursed through Luke as he realized what she was saying.  He’d lapsed into a moment of weakness on that balcony, willfully forgetting who she’d already chosen to be with.  “Y-you’re – but you’re with Lando,” he sputtered lamely.

Mara snorted, derision twisting her features briefly.  “Oh, farmboy. You’re precious. How many pilots did you fuck in the Rebellion?” At his astonishment she added, “How many of them are you still with?  Or intended to stay with, if they lived?”

Luke pressed his lips together, his jaw muscles bunching.  No, he didn’t exactly give much thought to commitment back then, when they all expected to die on any given mission.  But he hadn’t been callous with his affections either; he’d cared for his comrades, whether they warmed each other’s bunks or not.  Lando still liked to project an urbane and cavalier aura, but if he harbored genuine feelings for Mara, this was dangerous territory to tread in.  The last thing he wanted to do was to betray one of his closest friends, and he hoped Mara knew better than that, as uncharitable as that notion was.

“We have an understanding.  He knows how to give someone a good time, and I’m more than glad to reciprocate.  I’m sure you needed to blow off steam, remind yourself you were still alive and all that prattle.  Back when you were still human.” She spoke the last statement with a soft contempt.

“I thought I was too human when you kept pointing out all my mistakes,” Luke murmured, the offense in his voice tinged with regret.

“You sure as hell were trying not to be.”

An aching heat began to bloom low and deep in his core as he held her gaze, wounded indignation simmering beneath her veneer of defiance.  It wasn’t that she didn’t care for Lando, any more than she was seeking a mere fling with him – any more than he’d tried and failed to find an anchor in Callista.  They were both grasping for solace away from each other, too blind and willful and misplaced to reach out and connect. The irony wasn’t lost on him that of all his friends and family, it was Lando who’d told him to pursue what he loved.

His breath and pulse quickened, and his head felt heavy, being drawn down toward the magnetic pull of her presence and her aggravated desire.

_ Enjoy what you have now _ .

Maybe this wasn’t the best way to resolve this, but he  _ was _ human, and he couldn’t turn away from her now, couldn’t deny himself what he’d longed for in fleeting, quashed hopes.

Their mouths met hungrily, and her hands reached up to rake through his hair as his own seized her shoulders and slid down her back.  Dimly remembering they were on a public street, Luke broke away for a second, gasping, but she grabbed a fistful of his tunic and began hauling him aside toward an alley.  Alarmed in spite of his arousal, he exclaimed, “Wha – Mara, not  _ here _ , we can’t – ”

She smothered his protest with another kiss before replying, “Don’t tell me you haven’t done it in worse places.”  Her fingers were already scrabbling at the waistband of his trousers, trying to unfasten them. Luke clamped a hand down around hers; as enticing as this was, he was  _ not  _ going to let their first time be in some grubby alley.

“Mara,  _ please _ ,” he insisted, trying not to lose himself in the lingering taste of her lips.  “Let’s just…go somewhere else.”

Sighing irritably, she rolled her eyes and let her head fall back against the wall of one of the adjacent buildings.  When he released her hand, her grasp relaxed but strayed back to his hips. “Fine,” she muttered, “My ship, then.”

Indulgently, Luke thought of how much he’d loved their brief flights together aboard the  _ Fire _ .  This was obviously going to top all of them.

 

*

 

In the drowsy haze afterwards, when they lay tangled atop the luxurious bed in the  _ Fire’s _ stateroom, even without the Force Luke could sense the disheartened quality to their silence.  Mara had rolled over to face away from him, lying completely still as he stroked the edge of his hand across her upper arm.

This was some sort of breakthrough for them, but not enough.  He hadn’t thought she felt this strongly about him – that for all his asking what she wanted, he’d been standing there all along oblivious to the fact that it was  _ him _ .  But he was going to go off on his studies and she would return to her trading, and…then what?

It wouldn’t be impossible for them to keep their respective pursuits and still be with each other.  No, the problem was in making that commitment official. With their lust purged out of their systems for the time being, Mara was surely assuming this small victory was otherwise hollow.

He hadn’t figured it out – she had to  _ tell _ him, practically beat him over the head with it.  And he knew how difficult it was for Mara to express her emotions.   _ It won’t count if you have to ask _ .

_ You don’t exactly make it easy _ .

He’d understood her bald hatred when they first met, as soon as she’d revealed her identity, and that was a hate he was accustomed to, one he could easily look past and forgive.  He hadn’t expected the ferocity of her bile during her time enrolled at the academy. The idea that she’d still harbored anything resembling love for him seemed ludicrous, and although he’d suspected at least some of the reasons for her discontent, he’d been stretched too thin, too exhausted and overwhelmed and wracked with guilt to make the effort to force a conversation between them before she left.  Not to mention he’d screwed up royally in refusing to accept her assessment of Kyp.

How could he measure up to being the person she’d first encountered?

He wanted to tell her,  _ I never meant to hurt you _ .  But words carried little weight, even more so now when there wasn’t even a whisper of mental connection between them to convey his intent.  Words couldn’t undo what had already transpired.

As if taking a cue from his thoughts, Mara sat up and drew her legs off the bed, moving to stand, and Luke bolted upright, afraid that this was all she’d been looking for – just a release – and expecting nothing else.  And then it was back to their lives, back to their division. He reached for her shoulder with a grazing touch and blurted out, “Mara, I won’t…I won’t go.”

She craned her neck around and stared at him somewhat dubiously, then asked, “Is that what you really want?”  The hard edge wasn’t in her tone; it was a sincere question.

For a reflexive second it raised his hackles – she’d just lambasted him for disclosing his academic plans – but Luke knew that  _ this _ was the true motivation behind her anger.  Sighing and scrubbing a hand through his hair, he confessed, “I don’t know.  I mean – you’re right. I  _ have _ been thinking that keeping myself tied to the Jedi was what I wanted.  And it  _ would _ be satisfying.  But…I don’t know what else I’d want for myself.  I don’t…”

“You feel like you’re not allowed to want anything else,” she finished for him.

Luke closed his eyes and nodded.  Everyone kept telling him to do so, but the guilt and the need in his heart restricted him.  When he met her steady gaze again, he pulled her back onto the bed and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her head to rest in the curve of his neck.  “No matter what I’ve done or felt obligated to, I’ve never stopped caring about you,” he murmured into her hair. “Never. I just…didn’t always know how to reach you.  And after everything that happened at the academy, and when I heard you were with Lando…”

He felt her stomach muscles tensing as a low, slightly bitter laugh bubbled out of her.  “You gave me a family heirloom, for fuck’s sake.” Mara pushed herself up and straddled him, her hands beside his shoulders.  “How do you think I felt when you handed that thing to me, on the same planet Palpatine had given me my first lightsaber? You, of all people.”

Luke winced and swallowed hard.  Shame compelled him to look away, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her; with her hair mussed wildly out of its braid and spilling down over her bare breasts, and a pained but broad smile spread across her face, he thought she was more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.

“I suppose I didn’t take into consideration that you’ll make friends with a rock,” she added dryly.

Even though it was a jibe, her object of choice unearthed a memory of his contact with Mindor’s meltmassif, and it was one of those things Luke didn’t know whether to mentally laugh or cry about.  “Well…I guess I technically did once…”

Mara’s features screwed up in disbelief, and she swatted his shoulder as she let herself drop back down onto the mattress beside him.  “ _ Fierfek _ .  If you’re serious, I’ll need to hear that story sometime.”

“No.  You don’t want to.  Trust me.”

He could see her studying his expression out of the corner of his eye, and when she realized he wasn’t kidding she sobered up.  “Oh.” She understood. “Every time I think I’ve seen the weirdest the galaxy has to offer…” she muttered. “I forget about you.”

“I thought I counted as some of that weirdness?” he asked with a tentative smile.

“…True.”

Chuckling, he rolled onto his side and gathered her up again, intending to kiss her, but she pressed a hand against his sternum.  “You’re also right. I can’t dictate your life either. I just thought…” She took a breath, obviously struggling to find the words.  “There wasn’t really going to be a place for me. As usual.”

Luke’s throat tightened, and he shook his head against the pillow and cupped her cheek tenderly.  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you were even looking for it. Not…not like this,” he whispered. “But I always wanted you in my life.  Wherever you wanted to be in it.”

Mara held his gaze for a minute, seeming to ponder something, then sat up again and said, “You’d make a terrible associate.”  She held up a hand and started to count off on her fingers. “But you’re a hell of a pilot, and you make a mean Outer Rim haggle.  You’re a good mechanic and you’ve been brushing up on your combat skills.”

Luke’s jaw went slack, then he broke out in incredulous laughter.  “Are you offering me a job?”

“Like I said, you don’t have to give up being a dreary philosopher.  But no one’s saying you have to do it right away.”

His amused grin tempered itself into a more diffident smile as he tried to gauge how much she was or wasn’t joking.  “Would you…really want me getting in the way?”

“I’d make sure you didn’t, farmboy.  Besides, you’ll get to meet plenty more interesting people.”

Getting up, he leaned forward until their noses nearly touched, and said, “I already met one right here,” before his lips alighted on her, soft and reverent.

 

*

 

Darkness was no stranger to his dreams; there were numerous and sundry forms it could take from his collective trials.  No matter the context or their surreal nature when they bled into one another and his sleeping mind could scarcely tell them apart, they were never welcome, whether he resisted or allowed them to pass.

This time, however, when the black hole loomed before him, not only was he not afraid, Luke found himself filled with an inexplicable sense of yearning.  Unlike Cronal’s ravenous maw seeking to extinguish his sister’s light, and eventually all the light of the universe, the abyss he gazed into now evoked the desire to venture forth and let it draw him in.

He was not on the surface of Crseih Station, but drifted freely in…not space either.  Whatever this realm was, it almost reminded him of a womb – warm and occlusive and pulsing with life.  The air filling his lungs seemed to  _ pour _ rather than flow into him, thick and viscous but still breathable.

There was no communication, but the swirling void infused his entire spirit with an urgent beckoning.  Somehow, he belonged there.

Luke swam through the dim, heavy air and let himself fall slowly toward the black hole, his arms outstretched, seeking acceptance from this unknown place that almost felt like home…

He snapped awake with a gasp and a shudder strong enough to rouse Mara halfway into a defensive posture; she nearly shoved him off the bed as he flailed for purchase on the sheets and then her arm.  As soon as she realized what was going on Mara grabbed hold of his wrists, reassuring him quietly, “Hey,  _ hey _ .  It’s okay, you’re here.”

Luke gulped several deep breaths until the tension in his muscles started to release and his heart slowed a bit, and he kicked the damp sheets off of him.   _ What _ in the worlds had that been about?

“Do you want to get up, or do you want to just stay here?” Mara asked.

“Um…I’ll…”  He rubbed his eyes, blinking away their bleariness in the low light of the stateroom.  Everything was as dim as it had been in the dream, Mara just an indistinct shape next to him, and it made him irrationally fearful.  “Would you turn the lights on?” A note of panic slipped out with the question.

Immediately she sprang up and tapped the bulkhead by her bedside and the cabin lights flared on.  He didn’t care that the abrupt shift dazzled his eyes painfully for a second. At least he wasn’t in the dark anymore.

_ Unlike the Knights of old, you are not afraid of the dark _ .

This was a dark that  _ did _ frighten him, because it was incomprehensible.

It was easy to dismiss it as  _ it’s only a dream _ .  He could no longer have Force visions, and goodness knew he had enough issues to fuel the creativity of his nightmares for the rest of his life.  But this made no sense, and it wasn’t fading from his memory as many other dreams did.

Mara was watching him, concerned but not pressing him.  She never liked to discuss nightmares; she wasn’t going to make him do the same if he chose not to.  He didn’t really feel inclined to talk about something so perplexing right now either.

“Thanks,” he remembered to say.  Going back to bed seemed like a futile effort now.  “You wouldn’t happen to have any hot chocolate on board?”

She snorted.  “Of course not.  But I’ll show you what I do have.”


	6. Chapter 6

Leia started laughing before he’d even finished explaining his considerations for a sudden career change.

“Luke, you don’t need my blessing for this,” she said, dismissing him good-naturedly.  Her hologram flickered with static from the numerous relays the signal had to travel through, but the joy was still readily apparent in her eyes.  “Look who you’re talking to.”

Luke tipped his head down in amusement, conceding her point.  Of course – Leia and Han, the most obvious couple in the Rebellion, finding love and acceptance amidst war and their mutual stubbornness, solidifying their commitment to one another in the face of elitist prejudice.  He peered back up at her, wincing a little. “Was it really that obvious to everyone else _but_ me?”

The holoprojector couldn’t pick up the image, but he heard Han reply faintly in the background, “Takes a nerf to know one!”  Leia glanced over her shoulder and was rolling her eyes when she turned back. Luke dropped his face into his hand as he leaned his elbow against the _Fire’s_ comm terminal.

“Luke, I know it’s hard,” Leia continued gently.  “All the times I’ve wanted to just get in the _Falcon_ with Han and the children and fly away and…let it all go.”

Luke smiled crookedly at her.  “That doesn’t exactly make me feel better about this.”

Her face grew closer in the display as she leaned in.  “We’re not going to begrudge you anything – ”

“No, it’s not that, not...not really.”  He’d be a liar if he pretended he’d never harbored the slightest resentment toward his sister and best friend becoming a couple while he remained alone for years; he could understand if Leia felt a trace of disapproval at him running off to enjoy himself and shirk the last remnants of responsibility he could be entrusted with, even when his rational mind knew it was likely nothing more than his imagination.

His eyes dropped down to his hands, where he’d turned his empty palms upwards, one callused and the other seemingly unworked.  At this distance, even with their bond a full connection wouldn’t have been possible, but it pained him with an abrupt sharpness that he couldn’t express himself to her through the Force, that he actually had to find words for what he was trying to say and could barely give coherence to.

“We’re...more and less than the people we’ve served,” Luke said slowly.  “It feels strange to just be like them again.”

He glanced up to see if she understood, and found an agonized and compassionate empathy gathering in a film of tears over her eyes.  It wasn’t their fault; the blame lay at the feet of those who’d chosen to oppress the galaxy. They’d simply made the decision to take up arms against them for the sake of righteousness.  But the blood of Alderaan would always be a stain on Leia’s soul, however faded it became, just like the Death Star and his fallen pilot comrades and Mindor and the reborn Emperor and Gantoris and countless other losses and failures would be a stain on his.  They’d taken the crimson mantle so that others would not have to, and others could live the life they once thought impossible for themselves.

“We’re just as deserving as those we defended,” Leia affirmed.  “We can’t forget that, or else we’ll lose ourselves in the lie that we’re inhuman.  That we’re just as isolated in our service as our capacity for destruction.” Her tears fell freely as she smiled; it was much easier for her to grieve the past now.  “Papá used to say when I was little, ‘You can’t truly serve people by standing on their heads or lying down beneath their feet. You have to walk alongside them and look them in the eye.’  Be one of them. Then you understand them and their needs without forgetting your own. We were only shaped by our circumstances. We could have been anyone else in another life, another galaxy.  Others could have been the heroes fighting for us to keep our homes and families.”

Luke curled his fingers into loose fists.  As a boy the idea of growing old on the homestead, being nothing more than a moisture farmer, had been a pit of despair.  More than notoriety, escape had been his goal. In adulthood after the war, hiding away and finding respite in simplicity was an ironic desire.

Leia wiped her face and broadened her smile.  “No pressure, but I’m still holding out hope you’ll make me a sister-in-law someday.”

Conscious of the fact that this was Mara’s ship he was calling from and he had no way to sense if she was listening in to any part of their conversation, Luke shot a glance over his shoulder to check for any sign of her.  With the coast seemingly clear, he turned back and grinned. “I’ll try.”

 

*

 

With her customary bluntness, Mara made it explicitly clear that her venture was fully functional without his contribution.  What this actually translated to, though, was the fact that he was open to learn whatever he wished and make his niche within her operation as he saw fit.  Despite their tongue-in-cheek approach to the whole idea, she was perfectly serious about mentoring him into the trading business if he really wanted to tackle it.  She’d pointed out he already had some administrative experience from the academy, albeit reluctantly so.

Discussion of compensation was brought up early, since she’d accurately suspected how uncomfortable he’d be at the subject.  Luke had insisted it wasn’t necessary and felt wrong, but Mara skewered his arguments with a pointed declaration of, “I’m not paying you to fuck me, I’m paying you to get work done.  No one else works for me for free. I’d rather cut you some creds than play the full nepotism card and start you out with company profit shares right out the gate just because you’re in my bed.”

“Doesn’t this still break your work rules somehow?” he asked, after recovering from that riposte.

She gave a noncommittal shrug.  “This is my business. My rules.  I can bend and rewrite them as I want.”  With a too-sweet smile she added, “I can handle any other mess as long as we have separate bank accounts.”

Amused but aghast at the suggestion, Luke shook his head and squeezed her hand.  “Once I’m here, I’m here for good, Mara,” he reminded her gently.

Mara wasn’t looking to throw him into apprenticeship immediately, though.  For now she was satisfied to just have him around, wanting to savor them having time together after so many other things had gotten in the way over the years, their own clashing and volatile attitudes included.  Long hours were spent simply talking, slowly unpacking the problems and offenses they’d perceived about each other, both of them finally taking a methodical approach to tearing down their walls stone by stone. Words did matter now, when their thoughts had no other outlet through the Force.

Luke wondered to himself if this put Mara even more at ease.  They could only connect now in ordinary fashion, and she could retain full privacy of her being.  It also underscored just how much of an advantage the Force had given him in this area, and how much he’d relied on it.

In keeping with their running theme, Luke had jokingly suggested he could start out his probationary internship as a cook, and Mara hadn’t exactly objected, knowing she lived on rations and takeout and was too frugal to waste money on a lavish meal prep droid.  Standing in the galley preparing an unripe artoc fruit for a curry, he surveyed the space around him, his eyes roving over Mara sitting silently at the other side of the counter checking currency exchanges on her datapad, and let it sink in that this was his life now.  Not incomplete, just changed. Changed far better than he’d imagined. And the galaxy still turned around them and without him.

Mara glanced up with idle curiosity when she heard that his motions had stopped; catching his reverie, she answered him with a rare soft smile before going back to her reading.

Basking in the warmth of his contentment, Luke wasn’t particularly bothered by the mild but persistent itch across the back of his left hand.  The downy fuzz on the thick husk covering the fruit had a tendency to cause skin irritation. Perhaps a few fibers had escaped him when he’d first washed and scoured it.

 

*

 

“Ah, Mara…?”

She slid her enameled hair sticks into the base of her braided updo, and released a quiet but irritable sigh.  While her innermost self was now unspeakably gratified at Luke’s constant presence, the rest of her that was accustomed to solitude found it a nuisance to varying degrees, and at any given moment she’d wrestle with the fact that there was now someone else aboard her private ship and in her private space.  She had a consultation with the director of Boravis’ Botanical Conservatory in an hour and a half, an occasion that called for dressing a notch above business casual, and right then was not a good moment to be interrupted. “Yeah?”

No further response came for a minute, then Luke’s voice wafted out from the direction of the ‘fresher again.  “Um…I’m not sure what’s going on.”

Frowning and sighing again, Mara turned away from the mirror in the stateroom and headed over to join him.  “What are you talking about?” If the pipes were clogged or leaking, that was _not_ going to be her problem now.

He stood shirtless before the much smaller mirror in the open ‘fresher, and she caught sight of the angry red blotches spread across his skin.  He was scratching a spot near his collarbone and grimacing from the discomfort, and a flicker of embarrassment drew his eyes away when they met her reflection.

Instinctive alarm coursed through her at the sight.  A lot of serious things could start as an annoying but innocuous rash.  The pattern didn’t look like hives, but that didn’t discount an allergic reaction.  It was also far too easy to pick up something vile from a spaceport. Luke couldn’t just will away an ailment anymore.

“Are you having any breathing issues or feel feverish or lightheaded?  Any swelling?”

He shook his head.  “No, just itching. A hell of a lot of itching.”

They’d been eating the same meals and she was fine, so some sort of food contamination seemed unlikely.  She tried not to think about whatever this was being contagious. Perhaps she was simply incubating it a bit longer.  The notion made her own skin crawl.

“I know you have an appointment,” he started self-consciously, “but…I figured I shouldn’t…”

“No, you shouldn’t.  I’d rather you tell me right away.  Come on, I have an analysis unit.”

All her life, Mara had been primed to view illness as an inconvenience and a hazard that required immediate addressing.  In the same vein as injuries incurred on a mission, any vulnerability could result in failure or death, and unplanned downtime wasn’t something she could greatly afford in her new line of work.  As a part of Karrde’s organization, her absence could be covered by a wide network of associates. Being her own boss now did have its downsides.

Once the _Fire_ had landed in her lap, one of her first investments from her newly liberated savings was a compact medical droid and analysis databank, and a remodeling of one of the guest cabins into a small but well-equipped sick bay.  Everything required for basic triage and recovery was included, short of a bacta tank. Sometimes there was no avoiding a medcenter, but the convenience and discretion of having treatment options available aboard her own ship had been one of her highest priorities.

Granted, her resources didn’t include having access to Luke’s records stored on Coruscant or Yavin 4, but this was certainly better than nothing.

Keying her biometrics into a security panel opened a compartment in the bulkhead that revealed a small, gleaming GH-7 unit.  Its photoreceptors flared blue and four spindly limbs unfurled from its legless torso as it activated and floated out gracefully on a repulsor unit.  “Hello, Captain Jade,” it greeted her with a mellow voice.

“I’m not the patient today, I have a guest.”  Mara tipped her head toward Luke. “A very itchy guest.”

The droid took a general scan before acquiring blood, saliva, breath, and skin samples, and while results would be forthcoming in just a short while, Luke was going to have to sequester himself in the ship regardless of the source.  It wouldn’t really do to have him accompany her while trying to scratch himself raw. She tried not to be amused at how forlorn he looked about missing out on the conservatory. “I wanted to see the gardens,” he mumbled, sounding rather childishly endearing.

“You still might, if this calms down by the time I’m back.”  She helped him apply an anti-irritation topical on the spots he couldn’t reach.

“If it’s not something I can spread.”  His expression was remorseful for her sake.

“If it is…too late to do anything else about it now.  Shavit happens.”

When she returned a few hours later, having obtained her promised datachip and freeze-dried samples, Luke’s demeanor had changed to an anticlimactic bewilderment.  He was no longer in sick bay, but sitting in the lounge, contemplating the still-pink patch on his left hand. At her questioning gaze he said, “Apparently it’s just psoriasis.”

Mara blinked at him.  That was such a mundane conclusion it _was_ odd.  A relief, but odd nonetheless.  “Any cause?”

He shook his head.  “He doesn’t have my history, so he can’t really say.  But at least it’s nothing serious or transmittable.” He turned his arm over, pushing up his sleeve.  “Not serious _yet_ , anyway.”

“You’ll need to go back to Coruscant to get a real exam.  Something like this doesn’t just appear spontaneously for no reason.”

“I know, it’s…”  Luke lowered his head and dug his fingers into his hair, then sighed in frustration and crossed his arms over the table.  “What’s going on? First I lose the Force, then…this.”

There had to be a connection; it was too much of a coincidence for two significant changes to occur in fairly close succession.  But whatever psoriasis had to do with Force blindness escaped her. Callista’s spirit entering a foreign body hadn’t triggered any other unusual symptoms.  Mara could see the unspoken question lingering in Luke’s mind: what else might happen?

After a moment’s consideration, she sat down opposite him.  “Lando didn’t exactly give me specifics when he told me. What happened to you on Crseih Station?”

Luke shifted uneasily, his eyes going distant.  Of course he wouldn’t like to talk about the most mortifying episode in his life to date.  “I honestly don’t remember anything after I walked into the temple,” he began. “Han told me that, uh, Waru – the ‘Great Healer’ – and I quote, ‘ _ate me_.’”

Mara squinted in disbelief.  “ _Ate_ you?”

“It had no mouth or limbs, it was just a…mass.  Han said it stretched itself around me and consumed or absorbed me. And then regurgitated me a minute or so later and disappeared in a ball of light.  I wasn’t aware of anything until I woke up later on the _Falcon_.”

And she thought the pulpy holos they’d made of him were outlandish.  If she didn’t know better, she’d have sworn both him and Solo had one hell of a mutual hallucinatory drug trip.  “Did you stop sensing the Force right then, or did you lose it gradually?”

“It was gone as soon as I was awake and tried to reach for it.”  The loss was still thick in his voice.

“And you got checked out soon afterwards?”

“Yeah.  They didn’t find anything.”  He frowned thoughtfully. “Well, besides some of the…blood-like fluid I’d swallowed and aspirated.  Waru would bleed this stuff out of the scales it was covered in. I don’t know if that was…normal. When they tested me up and down, they also analyzed samples of that substance they recovered from my lungs.  The lab couldn’t fully identify it, but they said it was like a cross between blood and hemolymph. Makes sense, I guess; Waru was probably some sort of invertebrate.”

 _Bug juice_ , Mara thought.   _Lovely_.  “You could be having a delayed immune reaction to this exposure.”

“Maybe.”  She could tell he was suppressing a shiver of revulsion.  Obviously he hadn’t anticipated this being more of a problem down the line than it already had been.

“Or else you’re suddenly allergic to being mortal.”

His eyes flashed with recognition, and a look of subdued wonder softened his features.  Mara felt like she was missing something, until the significance caught up with her.

 _Welcome back to the world of mere mortals_.

Among her first words to him on Myrkr, when he was freshly bereft of the Force and completely at her mercy.  When she’d savored the shock on his face, and after she’d fantasized about all the ways she might be able to make him beg for his life before she ended it.

If her entire boot could have fit in her mouth, she’d have stuffed it in there and choked on it.

But all the recollection did was spark a fervent and humorous warmth in Luke’s expression, his eyes shining with emotion, and he reached across the table to grasp both of her hands, thumbs caressing her knuckles.  She was frozen, unable to move or process the concept of them having progressed from then to now. She dared to feel entitled to him as a lover when she’d once felt entitled to be his executioner.

His tenderness shifted toward reassurance as he leaned in close.  “If losing the Force was the cost of being with you, it’s worth it,” he whispered, breath warm on her cheek.

Mara was still rigid, her thoughts tumbling – _what do you want?  what are you looking for?  make it count_ – over the fact that she hadn’t understood until this moment that her want had not encompassed _this_ , this depth of acceptance that she couldn’t plumb.  His fingers cradled her jaw and his lips played softly across her cheek, working their way toward her mouth, until she finally melted under his touch and let him shut out the tempest in her mind.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY LOOK WHAT SHOWED UP UNDER THE TREE TODAY.
> 
> (This is what happens when I have a 4-day weekend - productivity! XD)
> 
> Apologies and thanks to everybody still hanging around and waiting for me.

_ Presence of foreign DNA detected _

_ Origin: Unknown _

The text glared back at him from the datapad screen in defiance until its edges blurred.  When he’d first received his diagnosis and spoken with the physician, he’d asked about parasites but was told none were found, only traces of unorganized, non-cancerous genetic material spread across his system.  Absolutely nothing in their extensive database matched its sequence. Receiving confirmation that he was indeed having an immune response manifesting as inflammation and increased skin cell production didn’t answer his root question, however.

He knew the  _ how _ , but not the  _ why _ .  Why had Waru left something behind within him unlike any traditional contaminant or parasitic infection, and why had it taken this long to surface?

Clinical fascination had been evident beneath the doctor’s professional calm.  Something new to study. Needless to say Luke hadn’t been eager to share in his interest.

A soft whirr approached the bedroom and crossed the threshold of the open doorway, but he didn’t pay mind to R2 until they hooted inquisitively.  Luke glanced up from the datapad and blinked at them for a second until it registered. “Oh, yeah. Thanks,” he muttered, and set the device on the nightstand.

R2’s response was tinged with disappointment, and he gave them a little pat on the dome as he exited the room.  “No, I mean it, thanks for reminding me. It’s not you, I’m just...it’s not fun to need a fix more than once, y’know?”  Mollified, R2 beeped in agreement.

Medical treatment was nothing new to him, considering the frequency and severity of his injuries over the years.  Long-term care for a potentially chronic condition was, though. Even the fact that dry-swallowing pills was not a recommended practice rankled him a bit.  But he obligingly trudged off to the kitchen to grab a glass and some water for his evening dosage.

In addition to a tailored cocktail of immune and epidermal regulators and anti-inflammatories, and the requisite topical treatments to alleviate the symptoms, he’d even been urged to stop showering and discontinue his regular hygiene products in favor of  _ bathing _ .  Luke couldn’t articulate why that bothered him so.  He’d had no real issue learning how to swim, beyond his amalgam of awe and fear for bodies of water that the desert and a certain flooded trash compactor had fostered in him.  Even the hot spring below the academy was an enjoyable pastime. But the idea of just sitting around in a soup of his own contained filth made his nose wrinkle.

None of it was going to solve the true problem.  He was invaded, harboring something that didn’t belong.

A whisper of fabric caught his ears as he finished gulping down the pills all together, and Luke saw Leia enter the kitchen, empty tea mug in hand.  She flashed him a sympathetic smile, already having heard his grousing about his new routine. But something about his stance or expression must have given her pause, because she remained leaning against the counter by the sanitizer and crossed her arms in that sisterly diplomatic pose she often took when trying to broach a delicate topic with him.

“Luke, have you thought about consulting with Cilghal?”

They didn’t really need the Force to be twins, he thought jokingly.  He licked the water from his lips and pursed them before replying, “A little.”  He shrugged, abashed. “I’m just not sure...it doesn’t feel right to trouble her with this when she has other commitments.”

Leia frowned in disapproval.  “She’s still just as much a Knight as a senator, and you know she’d be more than willing to help you, especially now that the Senate’s back in session and she’s on-planet.”  She drew close and rested a hand on his forearm. “Luke, she saved Mon’s life. You don’t think she’d spare a day for her former teacher?” More firmly she added, “Stop punishing yourself for this.”

Luke bowed his head, nodding slightly.  He knew she was right; he needed to curtail his embarrassment around his alumni.  At least he’d been able to impart the Jedi ways to  _ some _ , and he should take reassurance from that accomplishment rather than keep mourning his inability to carry on doing so.  Cilghal was one of his best graduates.

Making a clean break from the past didn’t have to mean isolating himself entirely from it – he’d have to let his emotions heal by learning how to face and make peace with them, as he’d done many times before.

“And don’t misunderstand me,” Leia continued, breaking through his thoughts, “I don’t want you to see her out of a hope that she’d figure out a way to restore the Force to you.  I just want you to be well.”

Luke gave her an appreciative smile.  “I know that, Leia.”

“Well, I’m making sure.”  She kissed his cheek and plucked the glass from the counter next to him to add to the sanitizer, and left him for the night.

He stayed standing alone in the kitchen, a misgiving more subtle than lingering shame nudging at the distant back of his mind where he tried to keep it shuttered.

Maybe he was afraid of confronting exactly what was inside of him.

 

*

 

“Hello, Luke,” Cilghal greeted him warmly, and he was relieved at the informality.  Whether it came from her own discretion or political tact, he appreciated it all the same.

Her modified quarters in 500 Republica were an expected haven, despite the high humidity.  Without the suffocating warmth of Dagobah’s fetid swamps or Yavin 4’s tropics, the moisture was not as cloying; in fact, the cool dampness gave him a bit of a chill, much like standing in a brisk ocean spray.  But the silken rush of water flowing down from ceiling to floor over a wall fountain and the azure glimmer of a large aquarium housing a lurid and undulating rainbow of coral quickly took the edge off his nervousness.  Everything about this abode radiated tranquility.

“How have you been faring?” she asked, extending a glass of water to him.  Hers was tall and curved, ergonomically designed for a Mon Calamari flipper-hand and protruding mouth, but she’d been considerate in providing a standard one for his human grasp.  The crisp mineral beverage fizzed slightly across his tongue.

He shifted in the seat she’d offered him, a movement just shy of a shrug.  “...Well, considering.”

She nodded, the domed tip of her head tilted down and her eyes fixed squarely on him in a posture that would seem intimidating to anyone unfamiliar with Mon Cal body language.  But Luke was aware that this was simply an invitation for him to elaborate, and that her apparent scrutiny was sympathetic.

He managed not to squirm by leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together.  “I mean, it hasn’t been easy. But overall it’s gone better than I thought.”

Her second nod bestowed approval.  “A balanced reaction is the best outcome.  This is still a loss for you, and any loss is worth its requisite grief and reflection, or else it was never valued to begin with.”  She cocked her head slightly. “But you’re still alive, and that means the Force has not left you. Only your perception has changed.”

A wan smile lifted his face.  He knew what she was getting at – no living thing was truly outside the web of the Force, whether they were attuned to its presence or not.  At least he’d been blessed for a season to experience the unity of life and his own infinitesimal place within it. The vast majority of sentient beings never felt the Force, and while that did not exclude them from its workings, neither were their lives any less worthwhile or fulfilled.

“In this instance, your late exposure was fortuitous,” Cilghal continued.  “For one who was a Jedi from their youth, recovery and acceptance would be far more difficult.”

Luke knew she was speaking of Callista, and his eyes fell to the floor.  His mind was abruptly filled with the last image he’d held of his quarters at the Yavin 4 temple before his departure, furnishings and items he wasn’t taking covered with tarps and the antique books he’d loved to peruse finally packed away instead of being spread haphazardly all over the room.  He’d sat down on the edge of the long storage crate that doubled as his bed, fighting back the waves of emotion and not quite succeeding.

_ Callie, I’m sorry it took me this long to understand _ , he’d thought.  Even after letting go of her in his heart, he’d been focused on his own pain and not hers.  To walk away from their relationship had been as agonizing as it was for him to walk away from the academy.  But it was the right thing to do.

Cilghal’s voice brought him back to the present.  “I take it that’s not what brought you here, though.”

His gaze flickered back up toward her with another small, self-deprecating smile.  “No.” Hesitating again, he added, “Would you...do you think – ”

“Would I prefer that you seek the Force?  This is your choice and your life, Luke. We are all different.  Far be it from me to impose upon your own decisions.” She leaned in closer to him.  “My own path as a Jedi was a detour from my original plans as a politician. In my privilege, I had always intended to serve my world as others in my family did.  That I came to know the Force was only an addition.”

“Thank you for that service.  For being part of something I’d...been dreaming and dreading about in equal measure.”  That he’d managed to fulfill his obligation as a teacher of the Force at all was a miracle; each one of his inaugural class that had chosen to participate had taken on a burden as great as his, helping rebuild an entire order from scraps and ashes.

She chuffed out a short laugh.  “Don’t flatter me, Luke.”

He blinked at the unexpected remark, then joined her with a quiet chuckle of his own, grateful for her levity.  “I do value your thoughts.”

“Then consider the time for reflection and opportunity this change has given you.  You opened my eyes to the Force and yours are now shut, but perhaps you will find a new spectrum of life in its silence.”  Cilghal held out her hands to him. “And speaking of such, how would you prefer that we engage? Would you be more comfortable seated or lying down?  I’m not certain how long this will take.”

In a trance, a Jedi could never know how much time passed while in the Force’s thrall; he’d had meditations that felt like minutes span half a day or more.  But Luke doubted she would need to focus for such a stretch to find what she was looking for. “Right here’s fine. I’m sure it won’t be too much.”

“Very well.”  She lowered her chin toward her chest, and he rested his forearms atop his thighs with palms facing upwards to let her large webbed fingers splay over them with a light touch.  Her breathing slowed and grew very regular and her eyes unfocused before sliding shut.

All too aware of his self-awareness, Luke imposed the same meditative breathing pattern upon himself and closed his own eyes, letting the watery sounds of her home unmoor him.  For a while he was content in the stillness, even letting his head drop forward against hers to gently brace himself, thinking that perhaps he might just doze lightly while she worked.  But a slow-building restlessness began to coil up from his legs, setting him fidgeting. He tried to control it to keep from disrupting her, but the more he resisted, the greater the sense of aimless frustration and need hummed through his body.  Need for  _ what? _

His breathing fell out of sync, shorter and faster, and he started to shake, compelled by an urge to get up, get out, to reach for her, to –

His fingers closed tightly around hers, and her eyes snapped open with their nictitating membranes drawn up as she let out a warbling hiss.  Alarmed out of his inexplicable panic, Luke released her and jerked back into the chair. “Cilghal!”

She swayed and sagged, holding her head, and he jumped up to steady her.  “Cilghal, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t understand...what that was,” she said, her tone dazed.  “What caused this pain.”

“Do you need me to call for help?”

“No, no, it’s fading.”  The membranes fluttered across her eyes several more times, but she was straightening and her composure returning.  “I was just unprepared.”

“Can you describe what you felt, besides...the pain?  Do you remember?”

“I did sense something, unlike anything I’ve ever felt from your presence, but...it  _ is _ you.”

Luke frowned.  “What do you mean?”

“This substance, whatever it is, seems to be an intrinsic part of your system.  It is somehow distinct and yet indivisible from you.”

The pit of his stomach grew cold.  “That’s not possible,” he protested.  “They said the DNA is unidentifiable, but they did detect it.  Unless it’s my immune system itself that’s malfunctioning, I’m responding to  _ something _ that wasn’t there before.”

Cilghal’s eyes swiveled up to meet his, bearing an apology.  “These are not nanoparticles, Luke.”

The cold in his core solidified and expanded, pushing up against his ribs.  The invaders could not be separated from him. “Is it mutating?” he whispered.   _ Am  _ I _ mutating? _

“I don’t know.  Perhaps. I could try again – ”

“No.  No, I don’t want to put you through this again.  Not if it hurts you. Was it me pushing you out somehow?  It didn’t feel that way, at least consciously.” Considering that moment, Luke thought he’d almost felt as if he wanted to pull her further  _ into _ himself, not the opposite.

“I had no sense of a backlash or barrier.  Only something very...wrong.” Her chin tendrils quivered.  “I felt lost and overcome, and then physical pain broke the meditative state.  It was as if I encountered something that should not exist, and yet does.”

A touch of lightheadedness made Luke clutch the backrest of her chair, and for a second the room felt too cold and too close around him, his heart beating harshly against his sternum.   _ Absorbed.  Contaminated.  Indivisible _ .

Cilghal’s hand covered his.  “Luke, you should sit down.”

The absurdity of her statement halted his mental spiral.  He’d caused her pain and she was trying to calm  _ him _ down.  Releasing a shaky breath through his nose, he did so, dropping down hard into the cushion.  “I’m sorry,” he managed.

“Don’t be, you had no intention.  I wish I could be of more assistance, but I don’t yet know what to make of this.  I will meditate further and review what I was able to detect for more insight. And please don’t allow this to dissuade you.  This reaction may not happen again.”

Luke didn’t voice his reply aloud.   _ What if the next one is worse? _


End file.
